by N L Hinkens
Never Tell Them
A psychological suspense thriller
N. L. Hinkens
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Biography
Also by N. L. Hinkens
Books by Norma Hinkens
1
Glancing up at a commotion outside her kitchen’s bay window, Sonia caught sight of a small U-Haul truck attempting to back into the driveway of the vacant house that bordered her back yard. She scrubbed distractedly at the congealed remnants of the previous evening’s lasagna, now welded to the white porcelain casserole dish she had cooked it in, as her eyes lit on the lean, dark-haired man emerging from the moving truck. She had spotted him at the house several times over the past month, but he had yet to stop by and introduce himself. One of Celia’s estranged sons, no doubt.
Abandoning the dish to a much-needed soaking, she shook the suds from her hands and watched as the man staggered inside hefting an unwieldy box. Folding her arms across her chest, she let out a disgruntled humph. Her elderly neighbor had only been dead six weeks and, as Sonia had predicted, the scavengers had descended.
She inserted another capsule into her Nespresso, vowing it would be her last shot of caffeine for the day, before retreating to the family room to update her mother on the new arrival to the neighborhood. After Sonia had divorced her husband, Finn, seven years ago, her widowed mother sold her house in Raleigh and moved in to help defray the cost of the mortgage and to care for Jessica, Sonia and Finn’s eight-year-old daughter. Stationed overseas in some classified location, Finn hadn’t darkened the door of the house since their acrimonious divorce, and only called his daughter on the rare occasion—usually with some lame excuse about why he hadn’t sent her a gift for Christmas or a card for her birthday.
“The vultures have landed,” Sonia announced, sinking down on her favorite nail-head-tufted gray couch next to Evelyn, her mother, who was glued to the local morning news on TV. Her recent hip surgery had put a temporary halt to her customary morning walks around the neighborhood to glean the local gossip.
Evelyn blinked at her in confusion. ”What’s that, dear?”
“I said the vultures have landed.”
Evelyn frowned. “You mean the cardinals? I saw five or six of them at the feeder earlier.”
Sonia let out a snort of laughter. “I’m not talking about birds.”
“Then, I have no idea what you’re rambling on about.” Evelyn eyed the mug in Sonia’s hand with a disapproving air. “How much coffee have you had this morning?”
Sonia shrugged good-naturedly. “Enough to call it a serious hobby. Back to the vultures—I’m talking about Celia’s missing-in-action offspring.”
A glimmer of curiosity flickered in Evelyn’s eyes. She glanced uncertainly at the television before muting it and giving Sonia her full attention. “Are they at the house?”
Sonia gave a teasing nod. “A U-Haul truck just pulled in.”
“Then they must be moving in—or maybe they’re here to pick stuff up.” Evelyn sniffed in indignation. “I’d like to give those boys a piece of my mind for neglecting their mother all these years.” She frowned, rubbing a thumb over her gnarled fingers. “Still, I suppose we should take something over, for Celia’s sake. I could whip up some of my French Toast muffins. Not that—”
“Whoa! Slow down, Mom! You’re getting ahead of yourself.” Sonia took a quick sip of coffee, and wrapped her fingers around her mug. ”Here’s what I do know. I saw a small U-Haul backing into the driveway, so I assume someone’s moving in, although they can’t have brought much.”
“They won’t need it. All Celia’s furniture is still there.” Evelyn cocked her head to one side. “Did you get a good look at them?”
“Him, not them,” Sonia corrected. “Only one guy got out of the truck. I watched him carry a box inside. Tall, dark-haired. That’s about all I could make out through the kitchen window. I think it’s the same guy who stopped by a couple of times already.”
Evelyn quirked an eyebrow. “Maybe you should fix yourself up and go over there.”
Sonia shot her mother a reproving look. “Seriously? You’re trying to pair me up with the jerk who neglected his mother for years on end? A minute ago, you wanted to give him a tongue lashing.”
Evelyn pulled her wrinkled lips into an exaggerated grimace. “I might still do that, after I introduce myself.”
Sonia gestured with her chin at the television. ”Any news I need to know about?”
Evelyn reached for the remote and turned the volume back up. ”Only the same depressing tidbits—break-ins, robberies, and what the weather’s planning to unleash on us next. Oh, and it’s the five-year-anniversary of that missing local girl—Katie Lambert. Such a sad story. You remember her, right? Her mother died of cancer when she was young; her father raised her. He committed suicide after she’d been missing for two years—couldn’t take it anymore.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me.” Sonia shuddered. ”This is why I don’t watch the news anymore. It puts a damper on the rest of the day. How about you go bake some muffins for our new neighbor instead?”
“So now you’re warming up to the idea of taking a peace offering over, are you?” Evelyn turned off the television and got to her feet with a grunt. “Admit it, you’re just as curious about him as I am.”
“Nobody’s as nosy as you are, Mom. I’m willing to extend a neighborly introduction, as long as you promise not to rip into him right away for being missing in action all these years. As far as we’re concerned, Celia was a sweet lady, but we don’t know her sons’ side of the story.”
Evelyn patted her ash blonde pixie bob. “She constantly made excuses for them—they were always too busy with their careers and the like to visit. It’s a crying shame. I think one of her boys used to call her now and again, but neither of them ever came to visit in all the years she lived here.”
Sonia shrugged. “They must have had their reasons.”
Evelyn drew her thin brows together. “Or maybe they’re ungrateful louts, plain and simple—here to cash in on her estate now that she’s gone.”
“Guess we’ll find out.” Sonia drained the last of her coffee. “Why don’t you start baking and I’ll take the muffins over as a gesture of goodwill. Test the waters, so to speak.”
A little over an hour later, Sonia stepped onto the back porch of Celia’s house and rapped on the screen door, shivering in her cotton shirt in the morning breeze. To appease her mother, she’d taken the trouble of getting dressed and pulling a comb through her unruly, dirty blonde waves. More often than not, she spent the day in her pajamas working on room layouts or mood boards for her home-based interior design business. When presenting proposals to potential clients, however, she always struck the right note with a clean, polished look that complemented the modern farmhouse designs she was known for. For the reconnaissance muffin mission, she’d kept it casual, opting for a loose-fitt
ing, long-sleeved, white Henley shirt and a pair of skinny jeans with just enough perfectly positioned fraying holes not to look ridiculous for a woman in her late thirties.
She shifted impatiently from one ankle-boot-clad foot to the other, balancing the platter of her mother’s freshly baked muffins in her left hand, the tantalizing aroma of sugar and cinnamon wafting into the spring air. Several cardinals were flitting around the bird feeder in the yard. Jessica had been diligent about keeping it full of seed ever since Celia’s passing. But her son might not be so keen on the idea of greeting the neighbor kid bright and early every morning. He was taking his sweet time answering the door, but Sonia was reluctant to knock again in case he was knee-deep in boxes and deliberately ignoring the bell. She could always try again later after she picked up Jessica from school.
Just as she was about to head back home, the door swung open. Sonia took a step backward, blinking in surprise. The dark-haired man she’d seen emerging from the U-Haul stood in the hallway, a whimpering child wriggling doggedly in his arms. He set him down on the floor, and the little boy promptly stuck his thumb in his mouth and backed away, staring wide-eyed at Sonia. He looked to be about three or four-years-old, pale-faced, with a head of dark curls.
“Hi, I’m Sonia Masterton,” she said in a breezy tone. “My mother and daughter and I live in the bungalow that backs up to your yard. I saw the moving truck and wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood. My mother, Evelyn, was a good friend of Celia’s. She sent you over some muffins. We’re terribly sorry for your loss.”
A nerve twitched in the man’s neck, but his face remained expressionless. “Thank you.”
Sonia arched a questioning brow. “So, are you Ray, or Tom?” she prompted, in a tone designed to highlight his rudeness at failing to introduce himself.
He cleared his throat, his gaze flitting briefly over her shoulder and back. “Uh … I’m Ray, Celia’s oldest.”
Sonia leaned over and ruffled the boy’s curls. “And what’s your name, little man?” He flinched under her touch, backing farther away, a look of panic in his eyes.
”It’s okay, buddy,” Sonia said, straightening up. “New house, and a strange woman asking him questions—no wonder he looks scared.”
“That’s … my son—Henry,” Ray said. “He’s tired. It’s his nap time.”
“Well hello, Henry,” Sonia said, softening her tone. ”I have a daughter called Jessica, and I know she’s going to be very excited to meet you when she gets home from school. Would you like to come over and play later on?”
Henry lifted his head a fraction and glanced mistrustfully at Ray. He pulled out his thumb, his eyes skimming to Sonia and then back to his father, as if teetering on the verge of answering.
“Perhaps another day,” Ray said brusquely. ”This has been a rough transition for Henry. His mother—my wife—passed away shortly before Celia.”
A dismayed gasp slipped through Sonia’s lips. “I’m … so sorry to hear that. I had no idea. Celia never mentioned you were married, or that she had a grandson.”
Ray fidgeted with the door handle, as though itching to close it. ”We weren’t in contact much over the years. She didn’t know about Henry.”
“Oh, I see. Well, family dynamics aren’t easy,” Sonia offered, feeling flustered at the minefield she’d inadvertently steered the conversation into. “I’m not in touch with Jessica’s father much either.” She bit her lip, kicking herself for volunteering information that was none of Ray’s business.
An uncomfortable silence fell between them, broken only by the intermittent trills of the birds nearby.
As though sensing the tension in the air, Henry began sniffling again.
“Poor little guy!” Sonia exclaimed. “He must be exhausted.”
Ray swooped him up, his face reddening when Henry began screaming and pounding his tiny fists on his father’s chest.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Sonia said, directing a meaningful look at Henry. “I’m sure you have plenty to do, unpacking and sorting through boxes.”
“Yes, it’s overwhelming,” Ray responded in a harried tone.
Sonia gave a sympathetic nod. “If you need any help, weeding things out or rearranging furniture, I’m an interior designer by trade.” Raising her voice to make herself heard over Henry’s wailing, she held the muffins aloft, “I can set these in the kitchen for you, if you want.”
Ray gave a tight smile, reaching out a hand for the muffins, all the while struggling to keep Henry in a precarious grip. “Thanks, no need. I’ll make sure and get your plate back to you.”
“Don’t worry about it. Jessica can pick it up later,” Sonia replied. “She’ll want to meet Henry anyway.”
She waved an awkward goodbye and turned to go, exhaling a sigh of relief as she made her way back across the adjoining lawns. All in all, it had been an uncomfortable encounter. Ray had been evasive when it came to her questions. She’d basically had to pull the answers out of him. And Celia’s grandson had been a jaw-dropping twist. Wait until her mother heard about that!
She frowned to herself, rubbing her arms briskly as she quickened her step. Was she reading too much into things, or had Henry seemed frightened of his father? And why on earth was there a price tag hanging from the kid’s sweater? Something felt off about the situation. Ray had been in an awful hurry to get rid of her—a little too eager for someone with nothing to hide.
2
Evelyn was busy wiping down the polished concrete kitchen counters and putting away her baking supplies when Sonia got home. She looked pointedly at her daughter as she wrung out the sponge in the sink. “Well, what’s the scoop?”
Sonia pulled out the rattan-and-walnut bar stool at the kitchen island and slid onto it. “He’s aloof. I got the impression he couldn’t wait for me to leave.”
Evelyn put a hand on her hip, a testy look on her face. “Did he at least thank you for the muffins? Maybe his highness thinks I should have made a bigger effort for the long-lost son. Which of them was it anyway—Ray or Tom?“
“Ray, the older one.” Sonia reached for an apple from the white marble fruit bowl and twisted it coyly in her hand. “To tell you the truth, I don’t think he noticed what was on the plate I handed him. He was too busy trying to restrain his child.”
Evelyn’s lips flapped open and closed several times before she spluttered, “Child? What child? Celia never mentioned anything about a grandchild.”
Sonia munched on a bite of apple, savoring the rare opportunity to relay some juicy news. “Ray has a little boy—he looks to be about three or four. His name’s Henry.”
Evelyn gave an annoyed shake of her head and began rubbing a cloth vigorously over the gleaming countertop. “I can’t believe it. Why would Celia keep something like that from me all these years? I mean, she adored Jessica. She always said there was nothing she would have loved more than a grandchild of her own.”
“That’s the sad part. Ray said she didn’t know about Henry. Apparently, she didn’t know Ray was married either. He told me his wife passed away recently too.”
“What?” Evelyn gasped, her papery skin contorting in shock.
”Crazy, isn’t it?” Sonia shook her head. “Regardless of how neglectful he was of his mother, that’s a rough hand to be dealt all at once.”
Evelyn gave a dismissive grunt and resumed wiping. “It’s that little boy my heart bleeds for. Let’s hope, for his sake, Ray’s a better father than he was a son.”
”He didn’t look like he was coping too well with the whole single parent thing. Henry was extremely upset, kicking and screaming, and Ray didn’t have a clue how to calm him down. He seemed more embarrassed that I was witnessing the situation than anything.”
Evelyn smoothed a hand over her wispy bob. “Well, if he was always working, as Celia claimed, I imagine his wife did most of the childcare. Henry may not have spent much time with his father up until now. No surprise Ray’s struggling to figure things out. Sounds like he
neglected all his relationships.”
“Maybe. Henry acted like he didn’t want to be anywhere near him. You’d think if he’d just lost his mother, he wouldn’t want his dad to put him down.”
Evelyn gave a small shrug. ”Children are unpredictable. I’m sure Henry’s confused about all the changes in his life.”
“That’s true,” Sonia conceded. “But it made me uncomfortable. Right when I was leaving, I noticed a price tag hanging from Henry’s sweater. Don’t you think that’s weird?”
Evelyn let out a snort. ”It proves my point. Ray’s a neglectful father. I’m guessing he has no idea what boxes he put Henry’s clothes in. He probably took him shopping and forgot to pull the tag off.”
Sonia got to her feet. ”Yeah, sounds like something I would do. Anyway, I need to get to work picking out window treatments for a renovation project. I’ll be in my office if you need me.”
By 3:00 p.m., Sonia was in the carpool lane outside Broad River Elementary School waiting for Jessica to emerge. She’d managed to finish the design she’d been working on for the young couple who was planning on remodeling the 1970’s house they’d bought as a starter home. But Sonia hadn’t been entirely focused on her work. Her thoughts kept wandering to her new neighbor—although, he hadn’t actually confirmed he was moving in. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she realized how little she’d learned about him. She’d done most of the talking—something she was good at—filling in the gaps in the conversation with the details of her life in a bid to exude a welcoming aura. To say Ray hadn’t reciprocated was an understatement.
